


The Haunted Couch

by mordelle



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Lydia Deetz, Alternate Universe - Beetlejuice (1988) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beetlejuice is stuck in a couch, F/M, Inappropriate Humor, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Divorce, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordelle/pseuds/mordelle
Summary: Lydia Deetz is recently divorced, but cutting her ex-husband out of her life means cutting off access to his vast family fortune as well. Faced with a crap job in retail and a shitty one-bedroom apartment, she turns to thrifting for furniture. At an estate sale, Lydia lucks out and leaves with a free, vintage, black and white striped couch. But the previous owner neglected to mention that the couch is haunted as fuck and has a particular taste for women who sit on it.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	The Haunted Couch

**Author's Note:**

> I was a bad writer and never finished this oneshot. So, to motivate me into completing this story once and for all, I am posting part 1! (but knowing me... this could somehow turn inti a multi-chapter fic. No promises though! Sorry! I've been in the Good Omens blackhole and loving it but I will ALWAYS come back to BeejxLyds. I have another long au fic in mind but that's far into the future right now. 
> 
> BTW I am self-publishing my first novel and raising funds for the endeavor on Ko-fi! If you feel like contributing and helping me launch my first book, please go here:<https://ko-fi.com/mordellestories>
> 
> I'm at 39% of my goal! Thank you so much to those who have already contributed and thank you to my insta and discord group! You've all been so supportive and essential to my writing process.
> 
> Thank you Azeran, my long time beta, for betaing this for me!

"Marriage is bullshit," Lydia muttered bitterly while weaving her way through all the junk that was leftover from an estate sale.

"It doesn't have to be," Bertha chimed in with optimism. Her smile fell. "Divorce is _definitely_ bullshit."

"No," Lydia argued, "divorce is more like hippo-shit." 

Bertha barked out a laugh as she checked out a crooked standing lamp. "What?"

Lydia picked up a rusty hose nozzle from the pile of odd trinkets on a table. "Ever see a hippo take a crap?" She nodded sagely. "Sprays shit everywhere. Like throwing a pile of shit at a fan on high." She waved her hands wildly and then pointed the nozzle at her best friend. "It's only aim is to soil everything in the vicinity."

"Shit." Bertha frowned with concern. 

"Hippo-shit." Lydia agreed.

Lydia had become so bitter and rightly so, but she hoped this day out shopping for her new apartment would lift her spirits. Lydia should have known better. If her husband–no, ex-husband – _Vincent_ had not ruined the best years of her life, she wouldn't be in the position she was now; divorced, broke, and living in a moldy apartment that she was pretty sure was being illegally rented out to her.

"I think you need a hobby," Bertha advised. "Oh! Maybe get back into photography!" She held up an old film camera and waved it excitedly in Lydia's direction. Her friend scowled the instant she laid eyes on it. "I know you blame him for quitting your dreams, but you used to love it! And it's never too late to start over or change careers."

Lydia turned away from the offending thing in Bertha's hands. "Change what career? I have no career. Threw my career in the toilet for that," she growled and picked up a samurai sword, "cheating, sack of human garbage!"

Bertha sighed but kept the camera on-hand. "Put the weapon down, and let's just try to find something for your place."

"I should never have signed that prenup," Lydia grumbled as she checked the sword’s sharpness. It was dull. As dull as her pathetic new life was turning out to be.

At least Lydia would leave this place with something, well, she hoped. There was so much stuff laid out everywhere, and she was surprised that the site wasn't overrun with people. The owner of all the junk had been standing on the street corner with a bullhorn, sounding like a bad infomercial. He got a lot of attention, but not the kind he wanted. Lydia thought it was funny, and she was looking to furnish her place. Most things were priced reasonably, but she couldn't afford much. What Lydia really needed was furniture. She'd been eating her meals on the floor for two weeks. The little money that her _considerate_ husband had given her would run out soon if she didn't find a job, and she was still unwilling to take up her father's offer of financial help. 

Financial help being taking up the job that Delia had offered her to be her personal assistant. Lydia would stoop to survive on locusts before she'd ever work for that woman.

After claiming the dining set and kitchen supplies, Bertha and Lydia made their way to the guy in charge. 

When Lydia saw Bertha taking out her wallet, she stopped her. "I'm not letting you pay for my stuff."

"I'm not gonna," Bertha defended. "I'm buying this." She placed the camera on the table next to the cash box.

"That was the top of the line back in the day," the man behind the table said. "Took good care of it too, it's like new. Eighty bucks and you can walk outta here with a vintage that–"

Lydia raised a suspicious eyebrow at her friend. "Am I to believe you have a sudden interest in photography?" 

"It's a gift." Bertha cleared her throat. "For a friend."

"No, Bertha."

"Yes."

"No. Even at that price, it's too expensive." She turned to the man. "Yeah, she's not getting that."

"Ahem, eighty dollars is not expensive for something like this," Bertha said then turned to the man as well. "Right?"

The guy scowled. "I can let it go for sixty. It's been a slow day."

"See?" Bertha beamed at her friend. "I'll take it!"

Lydia blushed with embarrassment and turned away while Bertha chatted up the dude. She continued scanning the lawn as she eavesdropped and noticed a For Sale sign on the lawn, the picture of a realtor with the fakest smile Lydia had ever seen plastered on her face. Jane Butterfield, Lydia read as the man introduced himself. The man's name was Barry Menot, and he needed to sell everything, including the house, because of a divorce.

Lydia whirled around. "Did you cheat, or did she?”

"Lydia!" Bertha's mouth hung open in shock.

"Um," Barry scratched the back of his head nervously and sent his gaze sideways, "I guess you could say _she_ did?" He chuckled mirthlessly and started to sweat.

Lydia narrowed her eyes and looked to where his gaze had landed. All she saw was a striped vintage looking couch. The stripes were black and white with engraved wood trimming painted black. It was beautiful and very much Lydia's style. Well, her old style. Dark and strange. Goth-like. How she used to be before her _prince,_ Vince, robbed her of that too. The sofa was way too pretty to be cheap.

Lydia asked, anyway. "How much for the sofa?"

Barry choked on air and stared at her with wide, scared eyes. "Y-you mean, the black and white futon?"

 _Futon?_ "Uh, no, that nice victorian-looking one," she pointed.

Barry did an exaggerated double-take and sputtered. "Oh!" He paled visibly. "Yeah, _that_ one. Um, name your price!" He laughed, sounding a bit deranged.

Lydia considered him a moment longer. Obviously, there was something wrong with the couch. "Nevermind, I don't have any more room in the budget."

"Okay, then just take it!" Barry exclaimed a bit too loud. "Free."

Bertha elbowed her friend. "Gosh, mister! That's awfully nice of you–"

"Yeah, that's nice, but I'm not looking to date." Lydia turned around and made to leave, but Barry grabbed her arm. She sent him a glare of death, and he let go at once as if burned.

"Sorry! I just–I mean–no, that's no–um, look, me either. I just got _divorced_ !" He let out another crazed laugh. "That _couch_ ruined my marriage!"

"What? How–"

"No, no. I meant–I mean–it holds a lot of bad memories for me. I was gonna junk it if no one took it." Barry's eyes widened pleadingly. 

Bertha looked between the two and decided to jump in. "Okay, we'll take it! _Right_ , Lydia?" She elbowed her again.

"Sure," Lydia relented dubiously.   
  


* * *

The haul was fruitful, in Lydia's opinion. She now had an oak dining room set, essential kitchenware, a simple black nightstand from IKEA, a standing lamp... and the odd but beautiful sofa. Lydia, Bertha, and her other friend, Prudence, stood next to each other and stared at the couch while Adam, Lydia's godfather, pushed it against the wall in the living room.

"You sure there's nothing wrong with it?" Lydia asked. "No rats, or termites, or anything?"

"Positive, sweetie," Adam replied as he patted the couch and then gave it a good shake. "Solid wood. Definitely an antique but well cared for. It's a great find!"

"See?" Said Bertha. "Not all men are evil, bastards."

Adam widened his eyes. "Well, I would hope not."

Lydia rolled her eyes and smirked. "Adam, you're the only good man in this world, and Barbara is lucky to have you."

"Nah," he waved away her comment. "I'm lucky to have her!"

The man was just too sweet. Lydia smiled. "Thanks for helping me out, Adam."

Her godfather gave her a hug. "Anytime. Come by for dinner tomorrow, okay? You live a lot closer now, and we've really missed you, kiddo!"

Lydia felt awful suddenly. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. I'm pretty settled already. I miss Barbara's cooking." She hadn't visited her godparents in over two years. Her _husband_ didn't like traveling out to the sticks.

Engaged at nineteen years old. Married ten years. _Ten years!_ And, now she'd be thirty by the time her divorce went through. Sad, sad... sad.

Lydia watched her friends, and her godfather drive off as she waved from her front door.

Why couldn't Lydia have found a man like Adam instead of a rich, mama's boy, who suddenly decided he identified as polyamorous _after_ he was caught with his dick in Claire Brewster's preppy, bald cunt. _Because he was tall, dark, and handsome, and filthy rich,_ Lydia chided herself internally. _And I was stupid._

She sighed and entered her lonely, almost bare apartment. A little mewl called out to her from her bedroom. At least she wasn't entirely alone. Lydia opened her bedroom door, and a lanky black cat rubbed against her leg before heading to his bowl of food.

"At least we got each other, right, Percy?"

_Meow._

Even though Adam was the perfect husband, he was perfect for _Barbara_ . Make no mistake, Lydia loved her godfather, but he was just so, so, so _boring_. Lydia had always wanted to live a unique and adventurous life. Vince had provided that because he had the money to keep her on her toes. They traveled the world together, rubbing elbows with many of her idols. He had catered to her every whim. At first.

Money was not a big deal for Lydia. She would have been happy working at something she enjoyed doing like photography or designing clothes, heck, even work at a nice gallery. Vince had enticed her to a life of gallivanting around the globe instead. That was okay because she was _in love_. She was an idiot. That life lasted about five years, and then they settled down right next door to her horrible mother-in-law. They tried to have kids, but it just didn't pan out. At around the seven-year-itch, Vince's mummy dearest started pressuring Lydia into trying fertility treatments, but Lydia put her foot down. She decided that adoption would be good enough for her, but Vince's mother was disgusted with that idea. Of course, Vince took mommy's side. Things went downhill from there. 

Lydia knew she should have left Vince sooner, but at the time, she just couldn't find a good enough reason to leave him. It seemed selfish to leave her husband because she was unhappy. They tried couples therapy, but nothing changed. She saw less and less of her husband as the days went by. They were both aimless and just barely tolerating each other. The final straw was the cheating. Lydia knew Vince was screwing around for years, but she couldn't prove it. Like all affairs tend to be unveiled, it happened by accident. The moron had left his iPad laying around, and Lydia saw the text messages. 

The divorcee made herself a cup of tea and sat at her new dining table. "I guess ramen for dinner again, huh, Percy?"

_Meow._

Lydia sipped her tea and looked out of her curtainless window. It was already dark, even though it was only six-thirty. The clouds parted, and Lydia gasped at the full moon that was revealed to her. It cast an eerie light into the room, and very suddenly, Lydia felt as if she was no longer alone.

Not like she felt happy, content, or at peace, or anything like that. No, no. She _literally_ felt like there was someone else in the apartment–watching her.

She shuddered. Slowly, Lydia turned in her seat towards her living room, fully expecting someone to be there. There was no one, but the feeling of being watched remained. Swallowing down her tea hard, Lydia stood and wandered to the area. The light of the moon blanketed the striped sofa. For a long moment, Lydia's imagination ran wild because the ridiculous thought that the couch was leering at her entered her mind. 

Quickly, Lydia flicked the switch on the wall, and the light turned on. She scoffed and shook her head at the sofa—what a weird thing to think. _Couches can't leer._ She laughed softly, turned off the light, and headed to her bedroom. Before she closed the door to her bathroom within, Lydia thought she heard someone snicker.

_Must have been Percy._

* * *

The couch was haunted. 

It was the only explanation. 

Lydia was just about going bonkers at the amount of weird shit going on, and she had tried to rationalize it away with every sane, logical, and sensible explanation she could come up with.

The first week since the sofa was placed in her home, Lydia continued to feel the odd sensation of being watched whenever she was near it. It was so unsettling that Lydia avoided sitting on the damned piece of furniture even when she finally got a TV. It was ridiculous, and Lydia knew this, but even Percy was avoiding the living room entirely. Sometimes that cat would just sit on the dining room table and stare at the sofa, ears flattened, tail a bit puffy and twitching, and pupils blown wide. 

Lydia had finally landed a temporary job at a Spirit Halloween store that still had Toys R Us decals and ads on the walls. She started working right away. She was getting home late because she had no car and had to bike six miles back home. Not a long ways away, but Lydia was out of shape, even though she was still a twig, and had to stop often to catch her breath and rest her screaming legs. 

So, on day six of her trudging through the first week of employment, all Lydia wanted in the whole wide world was to shower, eat her burrito bowl, and vegetate in front of the TV to watch The Haunting of Hill House on her stolen Netflix account–and-just-fucking-unwind. 

Lydia had entered her apartment with purpose. She was going to sit on that damned sofa and get over her paranoia. It was just a couch for Pete's sake! With narrowed eyes and steeled nerves, Lydia slammed the door behind her and looked pointedly at the ominous piece of furniture. She could swear it was staring back. The minutes ticked away during the childish Mexican standoff, but Lydia finally hung her bag and keys on the foyer rack, never taking her eyes off the sofa. 

"I'm going to shower." She said out loud as if the couch were sentient. "Then I'm going to watch tv."

Only silence ensued, but the air seemed charged with provocation as if the sofa was silently daring her to make good on her promise. The energy in the room was almost suffocating, and Lydia swore she heard the couch groan. Quick as a whip, Lydia switched the light on in the living room, and the overwhelming sensation was gone in a blink as if it had never happened. 

_Because it didn't,_ she scolded herself. _You're tired, and you've never lived on your own._

Lydia left the light on, regardless of her rationalizing and made straight for her bathroom. She liked her showers piping hot, never settling for a temperature less than what would inevitably leave her looking like a boiled lobster by the end of it. As the steam filled the bathroom, and the hot water hit her skin, Lydia sighed contentedly. This was the highlight of her daily existence now. The shower was a safe space, and Lydia could let her mind wander without becoming too attached to her problems. It was almost meditative, and it was the only place she would allow herself to picture a better life and believe it was possible to attain. 

While her thoughts ran amok, she acknowledged her earlier realization; she'd never lived alone before. She'd lived with her parents, then shared a dorm in college, and then moved in with Vince after that. Annoyed with herself for not celebrating that she could now be her own woman and a self-sufficient adult, Lydia wondered what dating app she should try. Hadn't she sworn off men? Should she try dating women? Why couldn't she just shut the door on romantic love and focus on loving herself for once! Regardless of her depreciative musings, she couldn't help visualizing the perfect man.

He didn't have to be handsome–look at where that had gotten her. He didn't have to be rich–it would probably trigger her anyhow. He didn't even have to be that young - maybe a more experienced man would actually be able to get her off once in a while. He just needed to love her, really love her. He needed to contribute to their home. He needed to compliment her flaws and be less like her. She wanted someone with a sense of adventure, who could take charge and– _oh–it'd be great if he had a sense of humor!_ That was more important to her than the occasional good sex requirement. Vince had been such a bore! Her ex could only rely on his money to keep Lydia entertained, and he never got her jokes. True, Lydia had a dark sense of humor, but she could make others laugh with her deadpan wit, except Vince. 

The shower dipped below Lydia's standards, and she groaned with disappointment. The loud squeak of the nobs turning while she shut the water off was enough to feel like she crash-landed back to reality. The high-pitched noise was so grating, she shuddered. Before Lydia could spiral thinking about her real problems, like how she was going to pay for her student loans– _good God, how am I going to pay for my student loans?_ The growl from her angry stomach veered her away from imagining herself pole dancing at the Beaver Barn two blocks down.

There were more important things to do than panic over bills and plummeting credit scores, like slipping into the baggiest give-up-on-life pants and an oversized hoodie. Then nuking her leftover burrito bowl and–

Lydia halted at the living room as she towel-dried her hair. She looked around, feeling something was off. _Off..._

The light was off.

Lydia had positively left the light on. Or did she? Exhaustion won over trepidation as she made her way to the couch. Standing before it, towel in one hand and a plate of food in the other, Lydia sighed and shook her head.

"Stupid."

She plopped down on the sofa and paused to see if it would swallow her whole and send her into another dimension. She bounced the cushion for good measure. _Damn, this couch is comfy!_ Then she shrugged, crossed her legs, and hit the power button on the tv remote. Lydia let out a snicker as she powered up the Apple TV that she'd stolen from her previous life and excitedly hit the play button on episode two of her new favorite show.

A loud yowl nearly sent Lydia into cardiac arrest, and she snapped her gaze to the dining area. Percy was sitting at the junction between the cheap linoleum of the dining room and the living room carpet. 

"Percy!" She scolded and chuckled with relief. "You scared me. Come," she patted the seat next to her, wiggled her fingers, and made kissy noises, but Percy would not budge. 

_HISSSS!_

Lydia flinched at Percy's new noise. She'd never heard him hiss before. His tailed puffed and twitched, and he looked pretty pissed. 

"Fine." As odd as that had been, she was too engrossed with what was happening on screen. 

Burrito bowl thoroughly scarfed, eyelids heavy, and body slouching forward, Lydia willed herself to stay awake to finish episode four--

She passed out.

With a loud gasp, Lydia shot to sitting and looked around wildly while she panted. What happened? Where was she? Her eyes landed on the TV, the annoying "are you still watching" message on the screen. What-- _oh._ She was in the living room. On the sofa. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. _Why is it so hot?_

Despite the chill in the air, Lydia was sweating, her heart was racing, and her undies were--

It was then she realized she'd been having the most erotic dream ever, and yet she couldn't remember anything about it. The only thing she knew was that her orgasm was incredibly intense, stronger than any other she'd ever experienced, which really wasn't saying much in her case.

Lydia laughed out loud–she had a wet dream. There was still a satisfying little ache between her legs. She squirmed a bit, stretched, and languidly made her way to her bed. Whatever the dream was about, she hoped she'd have another one before morning. 

What sounded like snickering echoed in the hall before she closed her door. _Maybe it's rats._

It was not rats.

The incident could have been overlooked. After all, it was not like anything out of the ordinary had happened. Lydia had fallen asleep on the couch and had a sexy dream. What's strange about that? Nothing. Except that two days later, Lydia had fallen asleep on the couch again only to experience the same thing. The only difference from the first time was that Lydia remembered one detail from her dream; black and white stripes. That made sense, didn't it? The couch was striped. She'd conked out on said couch. 

But things got weirder.

The living room light kept going out, and on one odd occasion, it turned _on_ all by itself. Obviously, her shitty apartment had electrical issues. The Haunting of Hill House would come on during the night, waking Lydia. Perhaps she left the tv on, and Percy sat on the remote. Yeah, that's it. And was that moss that had grown on one of the armrests? Odd. Maybe Lydia dragged it in when she used the shortcut through the old, foresty cemetery. She'd seen moss on the trunks, certainly. Yeah. The couch would groan at the oddest moments, like when Lydia would give into her guilty pleasure of watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy. Or, when Lydia decided not to watch tv and head straight for bed. Or when Lydia finally made her profile on Bumble. Then there was the time the sofa pinched her ass. Or, rather, Lydia sat on something pinchy. That had to be it, but she couldn't find the culprit for the life of her.

Look, it's not like Lydia was completely oblivious. She'd watched enough horror films to know that her place was haunted, or, more specifically, the couch was possessed. She wasn't an _idiot_. But there's always that inner skeptic that pushes obvious signs aside or squashes any thoughts of the supernatural down into "the nope vault." Everyone does it, even the ones who want to believe–and Lydia wanted to believe once upon a time. Now she was pretty sure she had a horny poltergeist sleazing around in the upholstery of her beautiful sofa, and she wasn't sure she wanted to believe any longer. So, her brain did its damndest to ignore the strange and unusual happenings that had become a daily occurrence.

But after seven thunderously climactic occurrences on that godsend of a sofa, it could no longer be ignored. Lydia remembered more details of her dreams each time. There was wiry, white-blond hair, blue eyes, pale hands, and stripes. Lydia was sure it was the same man in the dreams, but she could only hold on to glimpses and never remember the face.

Although the orgasms were terrific and very much appreciated - truly grateful, she was - the dreams were getting downright _creepy_ . In fact, she wasn't so sure they were dreams anymore. More like nightmares. Or worse, _real_.

_Bah! Psh. Nah... Well... only one way to find out._

Lydia's place was mostly decorated, even if all the furniture was mismatched, so she wasn't too embarrassed to have her friends over for dinner and wine. Bertha and Prudence were a bit tentative and awkward at first, which made Lydia feel nervous. She'd been awful at keeping in touch with them after college, but when they started meeting up towards the end of her marriage, things seemed to go back to how they used to be after some alcohol and time. Hence, the wine was already served before they even knocked on the door.

Mostly they just caught each other up with happenings since the last time they saw each other. As the wine dwindled, so did the nerves, and they were back to their old selves. Lydia sighed with relief when Bertha let out some incredibly crass things to say over dinner. They nearly choked on their food as they laughed. It was turning out to be such a great night, and Lydia wondered why she hadn't done this sooner. 

_Right. The haunted couch._

There was only a smidge of guilt as Lydia ushered the women to the living room after dinner.

"You girls get comfy, I'll get the cheesecake!" Lydia dashed the fridge and removed the desert. Then she quickly stood at the edge of the dining room and watched her friends take their seats.

Both Prudence and Bertha sat on the sofa. 

Lydia waited.

"Lyds?" Prudence called. "Everything all right?"

They were staring at her with concern. "Yep," she smiled and walked to the green armchair she had gotten at GoodWill. "I'm just really happy we've reconnected. I know I haven't really..." she trailed off and placed the cheesecake, paper plates, and plastic forks on the coffee table.

"Life happens, girl," Bertha consoled. "Pru and I weren't much better at reaching out."

"Yeah," Prudence lamented, "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Lydia nodded and pursed her lips.

"Okay!" Bertha exclaimed and rubbed her hands together. "Now that we've got that awkward business outta the way, let's dig in! I fucking love cheesecake." She served herself and took a bite before anyone else could. "Mmm!" She let out the most obscene moan.

Lydia snapped her head up with wide eyes, thinking the couch had already put the moves on Bertha. 

"Have I ever told ya" Bertha said with her mouthful, "bout the time I smeared cheesecake on a guys dick–"

"Oh, God..." Prudence closed her eyes and prepared.

"–because he tasted so _nasty_! It worked. If you ever run into that problem..." She lifted her plate of cake and nodded with a wink.

"Christ," Lydia breathed, but she and Pru giggled hysterically anyway. 

The three continued to talk and reminisce. By the time they were on the third bottle of wine, Lydia had forgotten all about her other goal of the night.

Until...

"Fuckn'-A!" Bertha tugged on her blouse, trying to air it out. "It's so hot. It's hot, right?"

Prudence shrugged, but Lydia immediately grew suspicious.

"Maybe it's the wine," Prudence offered. "I'm feeling a bit _h-warm_ , but it's _nice,_ " she all but slurred.

"Yeah, right. The wine," Lydia agreed. That made sense, but she narrowed her eyes at Bertha, who shifted in her seat and furrowed her brow. "You okay? I can lower the AC."

Lydia didn't wait for Bertha to respond. She got up and lowered the temperature even though the thermostat read sixty-one degrees. Lydia could feel the wine, but she wasn't sweating. Bertha was dripping sweat, and Prudence was shiny and flushed.

"Hmm," Bertha hummed and stared into her glass of wine with a quirk of her brow and a frown. "Y'all ever get horny after drinking wine?"

Prudence snorted and then giggled like a virgin.

Lydia nodded and realized her mistake in the choice of alcohol. Drinks usually left her feeling a slight sense of arousal too, and wine was most effective to induce that sensation. _Damn it,_ Lydia thought. Now she would never know it was the sofa--

"Wow," Bertha's eyes fluttered, "I've, um, I know I bought this before..." she closed her eyes. "Never, uh, never... felt so... _oh shiiiiit..."_

__

It was then that Lydia heard a mousy, hiccup-like laugh, and when she set her eyes on Prudence, she found the ginger was scarlet, blotches of red on her face, neck, and ears. And she looked terribly embarrassed.

It was definitely the sofa. 

Lydia's eyes bugged out as she switched her gaze between the women. Lydia was momentarily horrified with herself. She'd subjected her friends to molestation via a lecherous couch. They seemed happy, though, and suddenly Lydia was feeling something else. 

Anger.

So, the sofa was not monogamous, huh? Just like her fucking ex-husband. How dare the couch-bastard feel up her friends! Right in front of her no less! 

"Off." Lydia blurted out with a frown.

The women looked up at her and froze with guilty faces. 

Bertha cleared her throat. "Um, what?" Her pitch was higher than usual.

"Off. The. Couch," Lydia pronounced.

Prudence rocketed off the sofa and adjusted her clothes, pinching her jeans at the thighs and pulling them down a bit. "You know, um, it's getting late," Prudence squeaked.

"Yeah, it is," Lydia agreed with a sneer. 

"I'm too drunk to drive," Bertha whined and squirmed in her seat again.

Lydia held up her phone. "Lyft ordered. Two minutes."

 _"Lydiaaaa,"_ Bertha pleaded, "can't I just stay here and sleep on the sofa?"

"NO!" Lydia shot out of her chair and snatched Bertha's glass out of her hands. "It's not the wine that's messing with you," she confessed. "It's the couch." 

Her guests looked at each other and then back to their host with furrowed brows. Oh, well, now she put her foot in it. What the hell was she going to say? That the sofa was possessed by a predatory phantom Don Juan, and that she was _jealous_?

_JEALOUS?!_

"I just realized I cleaned it with some strong stuff, and we've been inhaling the fumes this whole time!" The lie came easily, half sober.

"Oh, my!" Prudence declared and stumbled away from the furniture.

Bertha looked slightly concerned but didn't budge, so Lydia continued. "My grandmother almost died mopping her floor from cleaning chemicals, Bertha! Who knows what it's doing to your brain cells?!"

"Bertha, get off the couch!" Prudence shrieked.

Finally, Bertha sighed and pushed herself up on unsteady legs. "Fine," she pouted and collected her things.

Prudence was scurrying around and opening all the windows in the apartment when the notification came that their ride was outside. Lydia ushered them out the door as quickly as possible and assured them she'd be alright, promising to turn on all the fans and air out the place. She waved at them as they rode off, a forced smile plastered on her face until the car disappeared.

Once her friends were out of sight, Lydia about-faced and stormed into her apartment, slamming the front door _._

With a face that screamed _murder,_ Lydia jutted an angry finger at the sofa and seethed.

  
"You motherfucker," she groused. 

She ran to the couch, picked up a decorative pillow, and began whacking it with enough force to send a dust and lint cloud into the air around her. 

Lydia yelled in between hits. "Dead...," _WHACK,_ "or alive," _WHACK,_ "you're all," _WHACK_ , "the same!" _WHACK_ . "I'll gut...," _WHACK,_ "your stuffings out!"

_WHACK-WHACK-WACK_

Lydia's fury was volcanic. She hadn't even been that angry with Vince, and from an outsider's perspective, a woman beating the shit out of a couch because she thought it was cheating on her was outrageously ludicrous. It was that notion that made Lydia stumble backwards and away from the abused furniture only to start laughing in a hysterical fit. 

"Oh, I'm losing my goddamn mind!" She continued laughing and wiping away her tears. "Jesus Christ, Lydia, get a grip. It's just... a couch." 

The memory of its previous owner came to her in a sudden flash. Barry had said the couch had ruined his marriage. She panted and stared at the womanizing sofa for a long moment and came to a decision. 

Lydia needed to find Barry.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this first part, please comment and let me know! It will motivate me to write part two faster. Also, remember to check out my other Beetlejuice fics! The Neither Here nor There series, Love and Necrogamy, and other fun little drabbles.


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